


The Cawing of the Crow

by ethereal_xo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Muggle, British Museum, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Gen, Insomnia, Mythology - Freeform, Pre-Slash, well mostly muggle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29229048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ethereal_xo/pseuds/ethereal_xo
Summary: "Every night for the past few months, the sequence of events was always the same. Sirius would toss and turn for hours, trying to fall asleep. Then he would doze off into a fitful slumber, and exactly three hours later would wake to an unholy scream in his ear."Sirius, having exhausted all avenues to figure out which weird thing is keeping him from sleeping, takes Dorcas' word that her work colleague can help him.Written for RS Fireside 2021.
Relationships: Sirius Black & Remus Lupin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8
Collections: RS Fireside Tales Vol.3





	The Cawing of the Crow

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I wrote for this fest! And while it had to be rushed, it was a pleasure.  
> Thank you to the mods for organising this fest and my wonderful beta for helping me out.  
> Enjoy!
> 
> Prompt:  
> 

Every night for the past few months, the sequence of events was always the same. Sirius would toss and turn for hours, trying to fall asleep. Then he would doze off into a fitful slumber, and exactly three hours later would wake to an unholy scream in his ear. 

Every single night, it was exactly the same. 

There was never a source for the scream, and it was surely not for a lack of searching. He had looked everywhere every time he woke up, desperately hoping that this time, this time he would find out what was waking him and he would finally know and _finally_ be able to sleep – 

But he never did. Something kept stopping him from napping in the day, and that same thing seemed to scream in his ear so that he couldn’t sleep at night either. 

He was so tired. 

And then the visions started.

The British Museum was a wide and unknown beast for the person who has never encountered it. And for all his time in London, and all his parents’ bravado about being the epitome of British lordship, Sirius had never in his life set foot on its grounds. Well, he hadn’t until this morning. 

It was certainly not what he had expected. He had gotten lost after he came out of the Tube at Tottenham Court Road station, wandering down the side streets his Google Maps sent him down. He had started to doubt the route he was taking until he saw a sign for Great Russell Street and then the tall black gates. 

And there it was, a seemingly hidden gem in a weird corner of central London. Its expanse became more apparent the closer he came to it. It was a Classical-style building, its front consisting of eight columns underneath a pediment with what he assumed were reliefs of the Olympian Gods. More columns lined the rest of the building, which spread winglike and then jutted out in two large squares. Given the size of the area in front of the museum, the command it held was impressive.

It took him about twenty minutes to get where he needed to go. First he had to go through a security check. It was standard procedure, but not a pleasurable experience once he noticed the elderly security guard was scowling at the rainbow Pride badge on his leather jacket, and his face wasn’t permanently like that. Luckily for the bastard, Sirius was too tired to argue with him. Then he was directed in through the large front doors, where a brightly lit entrance area beckoned so enthusiastically his head began to ache. 

After seeing the outer shell, the inside of the entrance was surprisingly modern. It was a circular room, dominated in the centre by a large cylindrical structure with windows dotted around it. The glass ceiling had a dizzying criss-cross pattern that sunk into the top of the structure, and stairs lined either side of it. On one set of stairs around halfway up, three children were hollering down at their wearied parents, leaning over the edge of the wall lining the stairs. Two men were at the information desk, one examining pamphlets while the other wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Other small groups huddled in different areas, examining the sculptures decorating the entryway or investigating the gift shop’s special offers.

Sirius did not feel like looking around. Another time, perhaps. Instead, he did what he was told to do before he arrived – he went to stand near a large statue of a lion, hands in his pockets. 

He was here to meet with Marlene’s girlfriend Dorcas. Marlene was the only one who knew about his troubles sleeping – even James didn’t know, and he was his best mate from boarding school. He hadn’t wanted to spoil his mate’s honeymoon though, that would have been a right shitty move on his part. And the only reason Marlene knew is because she took him in after his parents kicked him out, so she noticed his lack of a sleeping schedule. 

And then Marlene told Dorcas – who for some reason did not live with her, god knows why when they spend most nights together anyway – and Dorcas had decided she knew someone who could help. 

Sirius was a tad sceptical, given that she said this person worked with her in the Museum, and was an academic, not a doctor. Then again, he had already spent a fair amount of money on private consultations to no avail – 

_The darkness swam in front of his vision, a scream, a deathly scream not of this earth or any earth –_

“Sirius!”

Sirius blinked. It took a moment for the dark smoke that flooded his senses to clear, and once it did, she saw the smiling face of Dorcas. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail and her beige mac coat bellowed behind her like a cape.

“Are you okay?” she said softly as she came close enough for him to hear. When he didn’t answer, she pursed her lips. “Another vision?”

Sirius nodded, sighing. He was so _tired_.

“I know,” Dorcas said, and Sirius realised with embarrassment that he had spoken his thoughts aloud. “But don’t worry. I think my friend can help you.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s upstairs near Room 47, I’ll take you up to him.” And then Dorcas was off, her small figure disappearing quite quickly into the crowd. Sirius quickly followed, dodging a group of giggling students. She led him back in the direction he came in, then she took a right, leading him up a marble flight of stairs. 

Once they reached the top of the stairs, she turned to smile at him. “Not too far now.”

Sirius was glad of this, given the black spots that had started to dance across his vision. He pressed a hand to his chest and nodded. 

Dorcas’ smile faltered slightly, but she said nothing. She did however take a hold of his arm and held it close to her side. She led him through rooms and rooms of glass boxes, displays and hoards of people. They were all blurred and out of focus. 

She guided him into a doorway in a corner, and before he knew it he was in an office. It was a small one, softly-lit and framed all along the walls with bookshelves. A large desk sat in the middle of the room, with one green lamp, a large desktop computer and an even larger hard drive. To the back of the room was an open door, with a reddish light spilling out onto the wooden floor.

“Rem? You back there?”

A voice came from the room behind the open door. “I’ll be out in a minute, I just need to finish the torc photographs for the website.” Sirius recognised the lilt of a Welsh accent, but otherwise the voice was a stranger’s. 

“You never told me who this person was,” Sirius whispered.

“A friend,” Dorcas murmured cheerfully. “Someone who knows a lot more about nightmares than I do.”

“I don’t think they’re –”

And then he saw him.

The man who stepped out of the backroom was tall, about the same height as Sirius himself, but his lanky figure made him look taller. His sandy-blonde hair was long enough that curls of it fell into his face, which he quickly brushed out of the way. He rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt and pushed a pair of black framed glasses further up his nose. Then he smiled, holding out his hand. “You must be Sirius. Pleasure to meet you. I’m Remus, Remus Lupin.”

If he was in his usual form, Sirius would have paid more attention to someone speaking to him, it was only polite. As it was, the black spots on his vision were starting to get a bit larger and that was taking up most of his attention. He nodded once, not trusting himself to be able to meet Remus’ hand in a proper handshake. Remus’ smile lessened slightly, but he lowered his hand without a word. 

“Remus is one of our experts in ancient Celtic languages and mythology,” Dorcas said with a beaming smile. “The best, if you want my personal opinion.”

Sirius could see Remus’ ears redden at the tips. “You make it sound like a worthy case of admiration, Dorcas, and I’m not quite sure it is.”

“Stop it, Lupin, you’re a wonder!” She turned to Sirius. “He single-handedly set up an interactive exhibition on Ogham writing last March, it was fantastic. Even got me interested, and ancient writing systems are not the things that get my history boner going, if you know what I mean.” She patted Remus’ cheek gently. “If you need information on mythical beasts, this lad is the man.”

Remus laughed softly. And while Sirius wasn’t convinced that this man could help, spending time with him to try and figure this out was definitely not going to be an unpleasant experience.

“Well,” Dorcas said, smiling slightly. “I guess I’ll leave you guys to it!” She winked at Sirius and walked toward the door. “Play it safe you two!” And then she closed the office door behind her.

Remus rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry about Dorcas. She can be a bit…much. Love her to bits though.”

“Oh I know, I’m living with her girlfriend.”

“You know Marlene?”

“Yep!” Sirius grimaced, squinting his eyes. God, he felt ill now. Before he could process it, Remus had slipped off his jacket, taken his arm and guided him to sit in the office chair behind his desk. The plush leather was an immediate balm to Sirius’ aching body. He sighed in relief. 

Remus smiled at him, draping his jacket on the back of the chair. “Better?”

“Much. Thanks.” Sirius rubbed his temples gently. “So, Dorcas said…”

“Ah, yes. Well. When Dorcas told me what was going on with you, I started to suspect something might come up in my books.” Remus stood and started to ruffle with some papers on the desk. “I did some research about creatures and their abilities. I couldn’t really find anything about insomnia or visions… but I did find something that might help.” He pulled out a sheet of paper with a lot of text and what looked like a grey sketch of a figure in a feathered cloak. “The Badb.”

“Excuse me?”

Remus half-smiled and placed the paper on the table in front of Sirius. Sirius tried to read it but quickly gave up on that.

“The Badb,” Remus repeated. “An Irish goddess, one of the three goddesses of war.”

“Oh! Splendid. Death, that’s exactly what I wanted to hear when I can’t sleep.”

“Hush,” Remus murmured, and Sirius couldn’t help but feel that this was an exchange better suited between friends than people who had just met. It was strange, but nothing he worried about for the moment. “It’s not the war aspect that made think of her. She’s known for causing fear and confusion among soldiers, by any means she could. And I know you’re not a soldier, but the pattern seemed too similar to ignore.” Remus sat on the edge of the desk, biting his lip. “She wailed too, like a banshee, in the myths.”

“Wait…hang on.” Sirius sat up slightly. “When Dorcas came to me saying that you could help, I thought she meant you had some ancient coping mechanisms for my problems. That there was something in the books that could teach me how to stop the visions and stuff. But you… you actually believe in this stuff? You believe that all this stuff is real?”

Remus’ face fell. “I – ”

“You know what? It’s fine. This was all a mistake, I’m just going to go home and actually do something to –”

As soon as he stood, Sirius felt a searing pain tear through his skull. The scream whipped through his eardrums, an unwelcome wind of sound. He cried out and fell back into the chair, clutching his head. 

“Sirius?!”

_I’m as real as the brain in your head, boy. You’d do well not to question my existence._

“I’m fine, fine.” Sirius opened his eyes. “Just another vision. It’s fine.”

“Wait… her symbol is the crow.” Remus paused, frowning. He glanced at the back of Sirius’ chair, then grabbed a hold of his jacket. “How long have you had this?”

“What, the jacket? I dunno, I got it – ”

“Not the jacket.” Remus took hold of one of the lapels, pointing at it. “How long have you had this?”

Sirius looked at what Remus was pointing at, taking a second for his eyes to focus on it. At first, he thought that Remus was pointing at the Pride badge, which made his hackles raise. Then he realised that there was another pin, just above the badge. It was a crow, glittering with its wings outstretched in flight and its golden beak. He had never noticed it on his jacket, not once.

He remembered seeing it once before, on his uncle’s favourite coat. He left it on the coat rack in his childhood home, the same night he took the car to Essex and…

Remus touched the beak of the crow and the scream vibrated in his ears.

_Death and destruction, the end of all things, all the world, the crows all caw in unison…_

Another, stronger pain struck the base of his skull. “What – do you – _want?”_

_What all gods want in the end, my child – revenge._

Images flashed in his mind’s eye, horrible images of wars and battles and fallen warriors. People across the globe, bewitched to die at the whims of a god’s hand, ancient to modern. The last image lasted longer, of his uncle’s last moments in the car…

_Your family, they have often thwarted my advances. Protection in numbers, the most irritating of spells. But Alphard broke away, and now so have you… it’s only a matter of time before I pick you all off, one rotten branch at a time…_

“No!” Sirius yelled, clutching at his head. He blinked and blinked but he could not rid himself of the darkness in his vision, nor could he stop the laughter and screams ringing in his ears. He could hear Remus pleading with him but was unable to decipher what he was saying.

_The time has come for the next step, the death of the precious son Sirius Black –_

There was a shriek, but it was unlike all the others in Sirius’ head. It was fainter and more filled with pain. His eyes snapped open. He saw Remus on the floor, smashing the crow pin with the hilt of an embellished sword.

Sirius leaned back further into the leather chair, breathing heavily. When Remus looked up, he raised his eyebrows. “Smashing things with artifacts?”

“Not an artifact,” Remus said, “just a recreation I got from a friend.” He stood up, left the sword on the desk and dusted his knees. “Did the job though, didn’t it? It destroyed the conduit. How do you feel?”

Sirius didn’t understand what he meant until he thought about it, measuring the pain in his head and the black spots. Except there was nothing to measure. It had disappeared, nothing more than a mere nightmarish memory. “It’s gone.”

“What was it?”

“I…I’m not sure. But I don’t think I’ll be bothered by it anymore.”

“Good,” Remus murmured. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Sirius smiled a little. “Really?”

Remus’ face flushed pink. “Well, obviously. If something happened to you, Dorcas would never let me hear the end of it.”

Sirius hummed, amused. Now that the weight of the stress had lifted, he could move on to other things.

“You know, I saw a really nice café on my way here this morning.” He sat up and gave Remus his best leery grin. “Fancy getting a coffee?”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Are you serious?”

“I have just survived a horrible situation, and the pain my head is gone. I need refreshment. And possibly good company to share it with.”

Remus stared at him for a moment, nonplussed. Then a half-smile curled his lips. “Alright then, Sirius. Sleep first. _Then_ coffee. As long as you’re paying.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is partially inspired by my own experience of getting lost in London while trying to find the British Museum. Google Maps does get you there, but not always in the most obvious of routes!


End file.
